


Going Home

by Armybrat26



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bottom Jon Snow, Fluff and Angst, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Protective Tormund Giantsbane, Rebuilding Hardhome, The True North
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armybrat26/pseuds/Armybrat26
Summary: After everything that he's endured, all that he's seen and done for the realm, Jon decides to be selfish for once and go home. Tormund is right there behind him.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Returning to Castle Black

**Author's Note:**

> Just as an aside, I hate that Ed dies, and for the sole purposes of this fic, he's going to be alive. Also because when Jon dips to go North (the real North) someone can command the Night's Watch.

The guards have kept him on path since the docks of King's Landing.

They are there when he crossed the Northern territory, and they are there when he stands before Castle Black.

The horn sounds and Jon closes his eyes, waiting with bated breath for another blow. When none follow that blast, the doors are opened and he's not sure if he's relieved or even more tired.

Looking in at the main area of Castle Black, it looks almost how it did the first time he ever stepped foot here.

Except, there's a wildling waiting at the top of the stairs for him.

It's not a Maester, it's not Thorne or Mormont, it's just Tormund.

Who knew, after _all_ of this war and chaos that he's seen, Tormund would still be there, waiting for him? It makes Jon nudge his horse, urging him past the guards and toward the nearest stable boy.

By the time he's slid off his horse and the guards have gone in search of the remaining Night's Watch, Tormund has already made it down the steps and across the main area. When Jon looks up, there he is.

The giant bear of a man doesn't say anything at first and Jon can't help but laugh. It's weak and pathetic and tears are quick to follow, but Tormund doesn't stop him.

No, he just pulls him into his big arms and hugs him like it's the last thing the wildling will ever do.

Jon hugs him back, squeezing the furs on his back like they tether him to the very ground. Tormund's heavy hands hold both sides of his face when they pull apart. It isn't much and it isn't far, but Jon hates it anyway.

He wants to stay buried in this man until everything stops spinning for him. He can see just fine but he's never been more unsure or lost.

"I killed her." He says.

Tormund still says nothing. He wipes the tears from Jon's face and sighs. Jon tightens his hold on the man in response.

"I-I had to, she'd just started _killing_ everyone. I've never seen so much fire Tormund, I can still _feel_ it in my breath now."

Before he can go on, Tormund's heavy hand holds the back of his head, pulling him into another embrace.

Finally, just when he thinks he's fit to burst, Tormund speaks.

"It's all right, little crow."

If he cries any harder, Tormund's chest hides it well.

* 

*

*

Leaving isn't as easy as he hoped. Grey Worm got what he wanted, sending Jon here, but he had no idea of Tormund's plans on leading the Free Folk North. If he did, Jon's sure he would have killed him in his sleep. Gods knew the man had a reason to.

He's got his sword strapped to his side and his cloak over his back. Coming to the gate, he finds Ghost waiting for him, along with the others.

And Tormund.

He's been such a friend to Jon these last few weeks, he isn't sure how the wildling hasn't killed him yet.

Mounting his horse, they reach the first gate. Ed doesn't stall on commanding it open. That was the one thing Jon was sure of in leaving with the Free Folk. He knew the Night's Watch was in good hands.

As they all make toward the second, and final gate, Jon can't help but feel this stone in his stomach. He's carried it with him every time he's left Castle Black. This fear that was so tangible it nearly weighed him down. As he passes under the gate, that stone lightens.

It's nearly dizzying how light he feels.

He has to turn back to watch the gate close, wondering if that stone will ever come back. As it closes with a resolute _thud_ , Jon closes his eyes. He'll never hear that sound again.

Turning, a breath fills his chest and he nearly floats away with it. He won't miss this gate or this wall. The people behind it? Yes, of course. But he has a feeling it won't be the last time he sees his brothers in black.

Tormund walks ahead of him, leading the wildlings on his horse and Jon is helpless but to follow. Gods, he'd probably follow the man right off the edge of the wall right now.

"You're Free now, little crow."

Jon knows what he means, that he's one of them now, but he can't help but think of it truly. He _is_ free now. The Night King is dead, Cersei is gone, and so is-

He nods, not letting that thought finish. Tormund has dealt with enough of his tears to last them a lifetime.

"And you're leader of the Free Folk." Jon starts, Tormund looks like he wants to kick Jon off of his horse, but the wildling resists by one of the Gods' graces.

"Where will you take us?" He asks, this time more serious.

Tormund smiles at him, underneath the twists of his mighty beard.

"We'll start at Hardhome. The people are free to choose after that." Tormund pauses, looking at Jon now with a more somber look. "As are you, little crow."

Jon frowns.

"I thought we were going together."

The big man looks panicked, and if Jon wasn't so worried, he'd probably laugh.

"Of course we can. But I didn't drag you after me, boy. I want you to know you don't have to-

"Tormund." Jon interjects. The man turns his big blue eyes as bright as the moon. Jon settles under their light. "You're stuck with me."

The smile returns, all the more greater in size, and a deep laugh follows it.

"You'll regret those words little crow."

Honestly, being stuck with Tormund Giantsbane for however long he has left of his life doesn't sound bad. He has worse regrets.

"Let's see if the North remembers your little arse."

Jon shakes his head with a muted sigh. If the rest of his life looks like this, being chided like a schoolgirl by Tormund, he _might_ one day regret it. But thankfully, that day isn't today.


	2. Becoming Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they make it to the gates of Hardhome, two things become clear. The first is that the dead are still here, littering the grounds of Hardhome and the land surrounding it, and the second is that if they wish to stay here, they'll have to clean it.

When they make it to Hardhome, Jon's back is sore from sleeping on the ground. He can't wait for a roof over his head and walls to stop the cold from seeping into his bones.

As they make toward the half broken walls of what was once the Free Folk's home and main area of trading, the crumpled up forms of what is dead white walkers comes into view. Tormund slows when he sees it. Dead white walkers can't exactly move themselves once they've been pierced with dragon glass.

Jon doesn't remember sliding off of his horse's back.

He doesn't notice his feet leading him on.

He doesn't even really hear Tormund calling out to him.

Standing here, in the middle of this town, is surreal. He stood in this very place once before. Only this time, these dead can't hurt him.

It still doesn't stop Jon from waiting for one of them to suddenly stand upright and charge at him. The unsettling sound of bones shifting has Jon reaching for his sword.

There, right where the walls fall and open to the Free Folk, the _living_ Free Folk, stands his friend.

"It-It's too much, we'll have to move them all." Jon stutters.

Tormund looks around, this has to be hard for him. This was once a place he could call familiar. Sure, the Free Folk roamed, but they always had Hardhome. Now it was littered with the bodies of the dead and they would have to pick up the remains.

Just like they did at Winterfell. 

Jon sheathes his sword, now is not the time for memories. He can handle this. Tormund on the other hand, looks seconds from killing something. When he reaches the big man, he's careful when he touches him.

With everything the wildlings has done for him, Jon can set aside his fears now. Tormund deserves to have back his home.

"I'll start gathering firewood." Jon says and his eyes drop to the ground, he doesn't understand why he's so ashamed. Tormund knows the cost of war.

He knows the after as well, but this is just plain unfair. They spent nearly two days collecting the dead at winterfell. How long will it take here?

"Jon," Tormund says, catching him before he can get too far.

When he turns back around to his friend, the man looks somewhat contained, no longer seconds from headbutting a post in anger.

"We'll build a raft."

Jon nods. It'll be easier, setting the bodies out to see and burning them there. At least the smell won't stay here like it did further South.

Honestly, Jon doesn't want to even _think_ about fire, but he'll have to put that aside for now. For Tormund and the Free Folk.

*

*

*

It takes until sunset to finish building enough rafts for the dead. Most of the women have been helping Jon while the men collected the dead.

At least here, the children could run around without dead bodies underfoot.

Now, as Jon fastens the last of the logs together on his seventh raft, a little girl jumps on board. The logs hold, only minimally clonking around as she hops to and fro.

"You're Snow." She says, but it isn't a question.

Jon has known enough of these people to feel safe in their company, but he doesn't really _know_ them. Then again, he has a lifetime to do just that, so he figures, why not start now.

"Aye, I am, and just who are you?" He asks, unable to fight back a smile.

She reminds him of Arya, fierce and stubborn little thing. She takes the gap between each raft as a challenge and makes to jump them all. Some of the kids join her and its chaos for a moment until she stops.

Her hood covers most of her head, but Jon can see the fierce red locks underneath it. So many people here have been, what does Tormund call it? _Kissed by fire._

It's nice seeing these kids happy. They've all seen too much. The wildlings have done their best to protect them from the worst, but some managed to slip through the cracks, that much Jon can see.

There's a scar on her face. It looks like it's just finished healing. A pink hook around her eye that looks like the after effects of something heavy and something hard hitting her.

But, like he said earlier, she looks stubborn, so of course she managed to pull through.

"My name's Bohild, but ma calls me Bo."

Jon nods, it's a very strong name, it suits her.

"Well Bo, you're stepping on my boat."

She stops. Looking up at him now with a look that means to challenge him. He's getting too old for this, but he climbs onto the raft all the same.

"I'm gonna have to make you jump off." He says with a fake growl.

A smile breaks across her face in the same instant she fakes a cry of retreat. The other children have taken notice and start scrambling across the separate rafts away from him.

Jon's much slower than these amble children, but he makes his way around, finally catching Bohild around her waist and dances around the raft in victory.

Some of the mothers have gathered around, one joins in on his hunt. It's the happiest he's seen these folks since they left the wall.

When he sees a flash of red cross the beach, Jon slips on the raft he was standing on. He lands roughly on his ass, but thankfully only his pride is hurt. Bo remains ever the stubborn one on his back.

He's chuckling, reaching back to pry her off when Tormund comes to his rescue.

When the big man comes over Bohild takes one look up at him and scampers off. He's got his scowl on, one he only wears when he's fighting a strong opponent. It's enough to make Jon reevaluate himself.

When Bo has run off with the other kids, Tormund drops the look and claps Jon on the shoulder.

"Little crow, flying with the other little birds I see."

Jon slaps his hand away. He isn't ashamed for making these kids forget the horror that sits on the other side of that broken wall. It still feels like Tormund caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to.

Or worse, something he wasn't allowed to. Like smiling or being happy after everything that he's done.

Tormund must sense the change in his mood, he's gotten too good at reading him. He kneels in front of Jon now, resting his hands on Jon's knees.

"I want you to fly again Jon, there's no reason why you shouldn't."

Jon wants to scream at him that there is, thousands of innocent people were dead. He shouldn't be playing around like a child.

Jon stands, stopping Tormund from further waxing poetry about how good a man he is.

"I'll bring the rafts up for the dead."

"Jon-

"I'm sure the people want a roof over their heads by nightfall."

Tormund doesn't say anymore, he knows when Jon's demons have won an argument. What he wouldn't give to kill them all with his bare hands.

But they aren't real, he can't touch these monsters.

Silently, he follows after him.


End file.
